


Paths That Will Cross Again

by u_andcloud



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/u_andcloud/pseuds/u_andcloud
Summary: “Forfeiting the Alliance to Faerghus,” Lorenz hissed. “Are you out of your mind?”Unfazed, Claude met his eyes. “Bold words from the man who so eagerly switched classes back in our academy days.”[A reunion in the aftermath of the siege of Derdriu.]
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	Paths That Will Cross Again

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite part of playing Three Houses is putting Lorenz in other houses and seeing what he does.

Lorenz almost had to run to catch Claude.

He had overheard the conversation between Dimitri and Claude from a distance. Seeing Claude hand over Failnaught to the professor had shocked him, but hearing him speak of reuniting the Alliance and the Kingdom had actually frozen him in place. By the time Lorenz recovered, Claude had progressed a good distance down the waterfront, and, even walking at a brisk pace—and ignoring Byleth’s curious gaze on his back—Lorenz almost lost him as he disappeared around a corner, heading back into the city.

“Claude!” Lorenz called, not quite shouting, but still loudly and sternly enough that the sound echoed off the cobblestones of Derdriu’s empty streets. There was a hiccup in Claude’s saunter, but he walked on as though he hadn’t heard, and Lorenz had to jog the last few steps to catch him by the shoulder and force him to pause, pulling him around until they stood face-to-face, their shadows stretching long as the sun drifted towards the sea and cast the Aquatic Capital in orange and gold.

Claude eyed the hand fisted in the fabric of his cape with a bemused expression. “Lorenz, this isn’t like you. Has too much time with those Kingdom soldiers turned you into a brute?”

“Forfeiting the Alliance to  _ Faerghus _ ,” Lorenz hissed, electing to ignore the comment. “Are you out of your _ mind?” _

Unfazed, Claude met his eyes. “Bold words from the man who so eagerly switched classes back in our academy days.”

_ “That  _ was different,” Lorenz retorted.  _ “That  _ was choosing to study beneath the professor in the hopes that I could return to better serve the Alliance.  _ This  _ goes against everything the Alliance stands for! I never intended to live out the rest of my days as a subject of the King of Faerghus!”

Claude made a show of peering over Lorenz’s shoulder, down the street. “Don’t let the King hear you say that. He’s not looking too merciful these days.”

“Do not even get me started on Dimitri,” Lorenz shot back. “That is not the point _.  _ The  _ point  _ is that you cannot just  _ leave.” _

Claude folded his arms, his lips dipping into a thoughtful pout. “Says who? I seem to remember a certain noble who was pretty eager for me to do just that a few years ago. Besides, think about it—Dimitri is all but certain to put you in charge of Alliance territories. As the heir to House Gloucester, there’s no one better. Leader of the Alliance, with the pesky Riegan heir out of the way”—he winked—“you’re getting everything you want.”

Lorenz felt his grip on Claude’s cloak slacken. “I am not the same man I was five years ago.”

Claude used the opportunity to shift out of his grasp. “Maybe not, but something about you running up to give me unsolicited criticism is feeling pretty familiar. You made your choices, Lorenz. If you wanted to advise me, you’re too late.”

The words hung between them, and Lorenz was surprised to hear the hint of accusation in them, of betrayal. He had never thought his switching classes all those years ago had affected Claude at all—in fact, there had been a small part of him that had been disappointed to see how the leader of the Golden Deer had gotten on without him.

Letting his hand drop, Lorenz half-turned away from Claude, unable to hold his gaze. “I…you are not wrong.”

He could have made excuses. He could have told Claude of the Empire’s threats that had kept him tied to Gloucester territory, defending the Great Bridge until Byleth came to his rescue. He could have listed all the times he had made plans to flee his home to join the remaining Alliance forces…but he knew the words were meaningless in light of his actions. He had been a coward—no better than Acheron. He could recognize that much now.

In the corner of his vision, he saw Claude’s shoulders droop. “No,” he sighed. “I’m being unfair.”

Surprised, Lorenz turned his head just a fraction, meeting Claude’s eyes.

“I  _ could _ point out that all the lords at the roundtable agreed to this,” Claude went on, “but they’re just scared. That doesn’t mean it’s the best decision. And besides, I’m not doing this for their sake, anyway. Maybe if you had been there…well, that’s unfair, too.”

“I…”

“You know, we thought about trying to take Myrddin,” Claude told him. “We just didn’t have the resources.” He tangled a hand in his hair. “I’m sorry, Lorenz. I wanted you with us, believe it or not.”

Of all the things Lorenz had been expecting from this confrontation, an apology had not been among them. For a moment he could only gape, confusion and outrage and something  _ else  _ that ached in his heart overwhelming him, until he collected himself with a deep breath and asked the question that had been on his lips since the moment he had watched Failnaught change hands.

“Where are you  _ going?” _

Claude only looked at him for a moment, then turned away. Lorenz wondered if he meant to refuse to answer, but Claude glanced back over his shoulder.

“Walk with me a while?”

They progressed down the street in silence. After a moment, Lorenz stole a glance to his left—Claude’s expression was impassive, unreadable, but there was tension in every line of his face. Lorenz realized with a start that, no matter how cheerfully Claude had handed his Relic to the professor earlier, the decision had not been an easy one.

Lorenz followed Claude around a few corners, and the roads soon deposited them at the waterfront again, but at a different dock, far from wherever it was that they had left Byleth and Dimitri discussing their next steps. A few lingering ships still bobbed at their moorings, creaking quietly as the breeze tugged at their furled sails.

Claude hopped up onto a stone barrier, his eyes on the sea, and Lorenz stopped beside him, wondering what Claude was looking at with that long gaze. But there was nothing on the horizon but the setting sun, so Lorenz glanced to his side again, at Claude himself.

The golden sunset caught in his hair, still tousled from the recent fighting. The light seemed to gild the edges of his profile, and Lorenz was struck by the image of a face on a coin, regal. He had never told Claude that he had long since reconsidered his assessment of his abilities—he was undoubtedly suited to leadership, and the fact that the Alliance had lasted even this long in the face of the Empire’s might was testament to that. He truly thought it was a shame that Claude should abandon it now, but he wondered if Claude would believe him, if he were to say as much.

For how much hardship and turmoil had been contained in them, five years had treated Claude well. A part of Lorenz had wondered in what state they would find Claude when they finally reached Derdriu—if they would even find him alive. But Claude had grown into authority with ease—in battle, he cut an imposing figure on his wyvern even from a distance, and up close he was every bit the Master Tactician, self-assured and crafty.

He had softened a bit since the discussion with Byleth and Dimitri, though, his edge of roguish confidence fading as he stared out to sea. But this side of him wasn’t unfamiliar to Lorenz—he had spent plenty of time watching Claude in their academy days, at moments when Claude was unaware of being observed. He recognized the inscrutable sadness in his eyes, even if he still did not understand it.

And now, he never would.

Lorenz felt his chest tighten.

Years ago, he had attributed a similar sensation to envy and resentment, but plenty of self-reflection in the interim had led him to realize that there was more to his feelings than that. While it was true that he had switched classes in an attempt to surpass his perceived rival and claw his way out of the shadow cast by the sudden shining appearance of the Riegan heir, he had also been running away, fleeing from whatever strange sorcery there was in Claude’s laugh that made him feel like the ground beneath his feet was crumbling. Whatever one might say about the Blue Lions, there had been a sort of entrenched stability there, and a well-established precedent for taking one’s feelings and burying them deep. It had been a refuge, a place where he could continue reaching for his goals without distractions.

And yet, despite his efforts, despite how much time had passed, ten minutes in Claude’s company was enough to exhume all the old uncertainties he had tried so hard to suppress, threatening to smother him with an inexorable yearning for one of the crucial things his noble birth did not guarantee him.

But Claude was right—he was too late, and he had no right to entertain such feelings anymore. He had no right to wonder about Claude’s secret pain, and even less right to hope that he could do something about it.

“Lorenz,” Claude finally spoke up, and Lorenz was startled out of his thoughts. “It’s good to see you.”

It was the last thing Lorenz was expecting him to say. He stared, and Claude filled the silence.

“You being here…it sets my mind at ease, a bit. The Alliance has never truly felt like my home, but…I still care about the people here. I want them to be in good hands. Maybe a reunited Fódlan is on the horizon, or maybe this concession to the Kingdom is only temporary—either way, I trust that you’ll know what’s best for the people here. That’s why I feel I can leave, and I’m grateful for that.”

“Where is this coming from?” Lorenz huffed in return, thrown off by the sincerity in Claude’s voice.

Claude shrugged, unperturbed by his tone. “Just putting it out there. I think there’s a lot that was left unsaid, between the two of us.”

“I am not sure I know what you mean,” Lorenz replied airily, but his heart was beating in double-time.

In answer, Claude just exhaled a quiet laugh, glancing at him with a small smile that was simultaneously amused and knowing. Lorenz quickly looked away, struck by the sudden, unnerving sense that Claude was seeing straight through him. 

“Same old stubborn Lorenz,” Claude sighed. “And I thought you said you’d changed.”

Lorenz pursed his lips. “I have grown significantly since we last saw each other.”

“Well, your hair has, at least,” Claude quipped. “That’s a big improvement, by the way. It really suits you.”

Lorenz’s head snapped to the left, a blush already rising on his cheeks, and he turned just quickly enough to catch a smirk on Claude’s lips. 

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and cleared his throat, willing the flush to fade from his cheeks.

“Claude.”

“Yes?”

“This is a very dire situation.”

Claude’s shoulders slumped, the traces of his smile vanishing. “Oh, believe me, I know. I don’t particularly want to see  _ either  _ of them ruling the whole continent.”

“Exactly,” Lorenz said meaningfully.

Claude eyed him sideways. “Don’t look at me like that. If I’m going to be a king, it isn’t going to be here.”

Lorenz narrowed his eyes. “You say that as though you might consider being a king elsewhere.”

“Oh, come on, Lorenz. Five years to think about it and you haven’t figured it out?”

_ I have been a little preoccupied,  _ Lorenz wanted to snap, but for once, he held his tongue. Besides, it  _ was  _ obvious: a suspicion about the Riegan heir’s mysterious origins that had since settled into certainty. It was no wonder Claude gazed at the horizon with such intensity; after all, it was easier to reach Almyra by sea.

“Listen, Lorenz,” Claude went on, hopping down from the stone pedestal and turning to face him. “When this is all over, and you’re back in that fancy rose-covered manor of yours drafting laws to rebuild the post-war Alliance territories…write me a letter, okay? Addressing it to the palace in the Almyran capital should do nicely.”

Even if it  _ had  _ been obvious, Lorenz still found himself a little shaken by the confirmation. To think Claude’s ambitions had always outstripped his own, in ways he wouldn’t have even imagined five years ago…but strangely, he could not find it in himself to be resentful now.

“You are rather confident,” he said instead, meeting Claude’s eyes. “I do not like sending my messengers on futile journeys, you know.”

“Oh, it won’t be futile,” Claude promised, his eyes bright. “I can leave Fódlan to you, right? I’ll do some work with your  _ barbaric  _ neighbors”—the sarcasm in his voice was obvious—“and maybe in another five years, we’ll be able to start talking peace treaties. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds ludicrously optimistic,” Lorenz replied honestly, and Claude grinned.

“Is that Lorenz Hellman Gloucester telling me something can’t be done? For shame!”

Despite himself, Lorenz found an answering smile lifting the corners of his lips. “That is not what I said.”

“Good. I’m counting on you.”

“And I you.”

Claude stuck out a hand, and Lorenz hesitated only a moment before reaching out to grasp it with his own. Behind them, the sun had finally sunk beneath the distant horizon, leaving a scattering of faint stars in its wake. The sea breeze ruffled their hair, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world, standing balanced on the wavering line between two troubled nations.

But gradually, the silence gave way to a distant hum of voices and movement. Cries of relief and joy floated on the wind, and when Claude dropped Lorenz’s hand and turned seaward, Lorenz followed suit.

The once-empty sea was now teeming with ships. The fleets that had been taking refuge in the coves along the shoreline for the duration of the siege on the city were finally returning home. Lamplight sparkled from the ships as Derdriu’s citizens congregated on the decks and shouted for victory, and Claude and Lorenz stood and watched as a city’s worth of boats sailed smoothly back to the harbor.

It was full dark by the time the ships reached their moorings, but lamplight and torches lit up the docks as brightly as if it was day. People flooded back into the streets, the occasional few pausing to acknowledge Claude with cheers or even bows. Most of them, though, seemed eager to just return to their homes—and to their taverns, which were soon lit the most brightly of all.

Once the crowds had finally subsided, Lorenz turned to Claude. The former Alliance leader was watching the city come back to life, a faint smile touching his lips. In the glimmer of torchlight, Lorenz thought he saw a tear glisten at the corner of his eye, but Claude blinked and Lorenz couldn’t be sure.

“Claude,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard over the celebrations that were spilling out into the streets. “Is your business so urgent that you are departing tonight?”

Shaking himself slightly, Claude glanced at him. “Why do you ask?”

Lorenz gestured towards Derdriu. “Perhaps you do not see it as  _ your _ city, but the people clearly still see you as their leader. If you are to abandon them to the Kingdom, you should at least consider indulging their celebrations for one night.”

Claude raised one eyebrow. “Is that my final duty as an Alliance noble?”

Lorenz gave a serious nod. “I think so, yes.”

“In that case, I can hardly refuse,” Claude said, with similar gravity. “Will you be accompanying me?”

“If I must, to ensure that you are comporting yourself properly,” Lorenz replied. Claude grinned, then, to Lorenz’s surprise, reached out to link their arms and tugged him towards the city streets.

“Well, just be warned, I won’t make it easy for you,” he promised as the crowds swallowed them up. Lorenz found a tankard of mead pressed into his free hand almost immediately, and when he turned, he saw Claude was somehow grasping two overflowing flagons in one hand and eying them with some bewilderment. He managed to foist one of them onto a passing citizen and lifted the other towards Lorenz.

“To the Alliance?” Claude suggested, catching his eyes. “To the end of an era and a better future?”

“To the Alliance,” Lorenz agreed, “and to meeting again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter @u_andcloud !


End file.
